Wu and Wishing Well

I love this word. The silvery, glittery letters remind me every morning to keep a bead on my dreams.

My boss has helpfully provided us with an online subscription to a professional blog of some kind that furnishes us with “Daily Working Tips.”

I enjoy opening up my email each morning and reading the suggestions on how to work “smarter”.The whole concept takes me back to a less tech-y time when thoughts for the day were written in curvy, cursive letters that flowed from my teachers’ chalk onto cool ebony chalkboards.

Holding a thought is a very important thing. It’s a good way to begin a day.

Today’s helpful hint regarded the need to trust and believe in something outside of yourself. That’s sort of a “duh” for me.

Most of the time, I really don’t need to be reminded to believe, but sometimes, it can seem almost futile to wish, and that is why I remind myself every morning, and every night, to wish.

One must cherish a wish. A wish can be so wispy and ephemeral that it is almost not even a thought. Wishes are what fairy godmothers and green toads grant to woe begone princesses. Wishes are magical in nature. Just ask Jiminy Cricket. Or a child of eight or an old woman of eighty as she closes her eyes before blowing out the candles.

Unlike beliefs and convictions, wishes are products of the heart and the imagination.They are a symptom of our very being.

Much like the feather borne aloft by the breeze at the beginning and the end of the movie, “Forrest Gump”, our wishes are borne aloft by desires unencumbered by schemes or thought. A wish is ineffable.

Yes, one must believe in certain things. There are strong and compelling principles upon which you can and should base your life, pillars of morality and centeredness as steadfast and immutable as the Northern Star.

But it is also a fine thing to lift up our dreams, the thoughts we dare not share, and to make a wish upon a far away star that twinkles in the lavender dusk between today and tomorrow, or to search for and find a four leaf clover, and press its bright green lobes in the pages of a favorite book of poetry.